The Hand Of Reason Take Two
by thepeskylittlespell
Summary: After the War, Hermione returns to finish her education. She realizes that she has more in common with Severus Snape than anyone thought. *Rated M for dark/adult themes, references to depression, sex and the War throughout. Hopefully comes with a happy ending. As the ff progresses, not Ron friendly. First attempt at a fanfiction. Reviews Welcome. May seem OOC to some.*
1. Chapter 1

When Hermione decided to return to Hogwarts after the War, she understood that her decision would face adversity. She was granted, by the acting Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall to return early, giving her two weeks before the school started.

The first thing Hermione did when she apparated outside of the Hogwarts gates, was to visit her old head of house. "Miss Granger!" McGonagall's face lit up upon seeing Hermione. Hermione smiled sheepishly before she was pulled into a warm and enveloping hug. "Professor, it's so good to see you!" she said before she was ushered into a plaid armchair opposite the desk. "Tea?" "Yes please!" McGonagall remembered how Hermione took it, black, with one sugar. They sat sipping on their tea for a few minutes, before Hermione broke the silence. "Are you okay?" Hermione asked. Hermione looked directly into McGonagall's eye. Her eyes were so sincere, Minerva couldn't help but remember the bushy haired school girl that graced her presence.

Hermione's appearance had changed so much since then. Her hair, although it was still a mass of curls, had grown, and wasn't so bushy. She'd gotten taller and matured, her body had filled out. She wasn't obviously beautiful, and didn't paint herself with makeup, or wear garish clothing. But, she was attractive, none the less. Minerva took a sip of her tea before replying. "Things, have been, hard." She answered, her Scottish accent as thick as it had ever been. "I can finally, grieve Albus. I miss him, I honestly do. Although, he always finds ways to keep me company." McGonagall pointed to a sleeping portrait of Albus Dumbledore. The elder witch smiled, and Hermione noticed a glimmer in her eyes, that reminded her so much of the professor in mention. _It seems some things never change. _ She thought to herself.

"But Hogwarts, running it, although chaotic is wonderful. It feels so much like home again. I've made it my duty to see that the students here see so much light and goodness we never have to face the likes of Tom Riddle again." Hermione nodded thoughtfully, and then her thoughts drifted to a particular professor. "Professor McGonagall," she started, but was cut off. "Oh Dear, call me Minerva when we're alone, honestly, you're more like a teacher anyway." Hermione blushed and nodded, then started again.

"Minerva," She tested out carefully. "How is, Professor Snape?" The elder witches lips pursed, and for a moment Hermione regretted asking. "He, keeps to himself. As you know, he was cleared of all War Crimes, thanks to everyone's testimonies, and Dumbledore's memories." Hermione nodded solemnly, she remembers the trial. "He's fully recovered from Nagini?" Minerva nodded. "He seems odd though, but dear, don't tell anyone I talked about this, Snape would confundus me into the next school year." Hermione shook her head vigorously, "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Pro- Minerva." Minerva looked out into space for a few minutes, consumed by her thoughts, until Hermione continued.

"Proffesor, has anyone been assigned head girl yet?" "No dear, why?" "I was wondering if I could stay in the head girls rooms. I'd be happy to complete all Head Girl duties of course, only I was wondering if there was anyway I could be afforded a little more privacy this year." McGonagall, looked at her, slightly puzzled. "Of course you can my dear, I'd have asked you anyway, even if you hadn't brought it up. But why the privacy? I thought you got on well with everyone in Gryffindor?" Hermione's thoughts brushed over her initial time at Hogwarts, remembering the cruel taunts and degrading insults. But she neglected to mention it to the Headmistress. "Umm, it's slightly embarrassing Minerva." At this, Minerva chuckled, "You've not turned into a werewolf have you?" At this Minerva sobered. "Oh Merlin, Hermione, have you?!" "No, no, not at all!" Hermione insisted.

"After the war, I don't know, maybe some PTSD as muggles refer to it. I've been getting nightmares, bad ones, and I would prefer to be alone when I wake." Minerva's brow furrowed, and her true age showed. "My dear child, are you alright?" She spluttered, after moments of silence. Hermione nodded. "Of course you can, is there anything I can do to help?" Hermione shook her head. She didn't want to burden the old witch with her problems, the headaches, the fainting, the bad days. "No, honestly Minerva, I will be fine. Can I go to my rooms now?" Minerva stood. "Of course my dear. I'll take you to them, and then you can look around the castle. I hope you'll like the new library. Well, not new. Just restored to it's former glory." Hermione smiled.

Of course, most of Hermione's time was spent in the Library, and she found that nothing had changed. Madame Pince had returned everything into it's original state, and although she was never entirely friendly, granted Hermione a space to herself. In return, Hermione occasionally charmed Lemon Drops to appear on the Librarians Desk.

The War did nothing to stop Hermione's appetite for reading. However, the headaches Hermione had meant that staring at a book, or anything for too long made her head feel funny, and thus she resigned to reading for shortened periods of time. She frequently debated asking Poppy for some potions, but the thought made Hermione's body tense up.

Firstly, she was embarrassed. Everyone else seemed so calm after the war, better in fact. And there she was suffering first hand. Secondly, the ailments to her body were followed by an overwhelming sense of numbness and unhappiness, and she didn't want to have to explain it to anyone.

Of course, things still made her happy, but she would lie awake at night, she didn't cry anymore, but if she could, she would have. These were usually accompanied by panic attacks, which caused her entire body to seize up and her breath to become ragged. One day, exactly a week before the beginning of term, Hermione was thumbing through 'Hogwarts; A History.' when her thoughts escaped her and she felt a panic attack coming on.

Deciding it was best not to freak out in the middle of the library, were a few students were dotted around, Hermione tried to keep her body from shaking as much as she could to exit the library without causing a scene. Once out of the library, Hermione ran down the corridor, trying to find an empty room or small space to hide in. She kept her eyes trained on the ground in front of her, not wanting to open herself to the possibility of encountering anyone. However, the panic attack worsened, and Hermione could feel her legs weakening. She starts hyperventilating, and her eyes have a hard time focusing on anything for a long period of time. The corners of her vision become fuzzy. She turns a corner, her brain is too fuzzy to realise there is someone coming directly her way. Before she can realise what happens, she runs directly into none other than Severus Snape. She pelts into him, full force, and the two topple over.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione fell onto the hard ground. She threw her hands out, but her legs had given out, and she was still hyperventilating. Her panic attack had worsened, and was finding it continuously harder to do anything. "What the hell are you doing?" Spat Severus Snape, firstly oblivious to Hermione's plight, and the fact it was Hermione all together. His limbs ached, and he fell straight onto his arse, although he would never have admitted it. When he recognised the head of curls, that were somewhat draped over the ball Hermione had contorted herself into, he was less than surprised. Of course that annoying little bookworm would have returned, he thought. Just when I was hoping for a year of peace. "Miss Granger, it's wonderful to see that years of education have done nothing to help your common sense. Have you head of looking before running through the hallway?" Snape spat sarcastically. However, Snapes words were almost whispers to Hermione, as she was trapped in the confines of her own fear. "Miss Granger, I am talking to you!"

At this, Hermione rose her head, curls falling away from her face, to look at the potions master who now stood before her. His overall appearance hadn't changed much, he still wore all black, and his skin was pale, apart from the jagged almost ghost-white start of the scar that marred what little of his throat was viewable. He wore a sneer on his face, the same Hermione saw in all her years of education, and Hermione's thoughts briefly flickered back to when she saw him, lying in the boathouse. He seemed so vulnerable then, but all his guards and masks seemed to be stitched into place now. However, when Hermione's head rose, Snape was able to acknowledge what was going on. Hermione's face was blotchy, but tears were absent. Her chest was rising and falling at an incredible pace, though all that was audible were a continuum of broken sobs and shudders. Her arms were wrapped round her knees and her hands seemed to be clutched to herself for dear life, she was a pale white. At this, the sneer dropped, and Hermione saw recognition in his face, and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint.

He stated the obvious. "You're having a panic attack." Hermione nodded in a short burst, and then her eyes dropped down to the floor again. "Miss Granger, we need to help you." Snapes voice was void of all sarcasm or cruelty. "I'll...beee...fiiinee." Hermione choked out. "Miss Granger, you are smart, even for a Gryffindor so don't be ridiculous. Let me help you up at least." At this, Snape extended his long, arm and hands out to her. Hermione's hands and body shook but she managed to take his hand in hers. She slowly rose, but her legs gave way again and she fell back into a heap on the floor. Still strangling out sobs. Snape sighed audibly, but picked Hermione of the floor, and carried her. It occurred to him, how inappropriate this was, but he understood the horrors of panic attacks, and felt it too cruel, even for a git like him to leave her there, to be found by someone. He walked fast, he didn't want to see, both her panicking and him carrying a student, on of the golden trio for goodness sake. Luckily, most students that had either remained behind or returned early seemed to be in their dormitories, luckily away from him. Soon, he found his study, and whispering the password, entered.

Firstly, he placed Hermione onto one of the two armchairs in his living quarters. "Breathe Miss Granger. You will be ok. It's going to be okay." Hermione was shocked by these kind words, and his change in attitude, and forced herself to even out her breathing slightly. "I'm going to get a potion now," He added. "Breathe." Any malice or coldness in his voice had gone, although it was still a low, velvety drawl. He exited through one of the doors and returned only a moment later, carrying a vial of a dark purple liquid. He passed it to Hermione, "Drink." He said, and she did.

Almost instantly, Hermione felt the weight on her chest lighten, and her mind seemed to become clearer. She could breathe properly, and see clearly, her eyes flickered to adjust to the light. Although, she thought, his study was in the dungeons, along with the rest of the Slytherins, there was a stained glass window that hung above the fireplace, and what appeared to be daylight was pouring through. However, when Hermione looked around, she spotted another two windows, and they quite obviously spoke of being underwater, by the lake. The what little walls of Snapes study that were viewable, most space along the walls was consumed by either bookshelf or window, were a dark colour, indistinguishable between green and black. His armchairs were a deep forest green, They had high backs, and Hermione could rest her head against them. Beside each armchair, small black carved tables came up to arm height, each with a candle in the corner. The fireplace contained a healthy amount of logs, although it was unlit. At the back of the hearth, the Slytherin emblem could be seen. Dotted around were two dozen or so candles, all unlit, but at various levels of use. Although it was a study, there was nothing of decoration, no paintings. There were no mirrors or any reflective surfaces at all. Hermione's eyes flickered back to the bookshelf, and she realised the potions master seemed to mirror her affinity for books.

"If you have quite finished eyeing up my study Miss Granger. It seems you've not changed you're over inquisitive know-it-all nature." Snape spoke again, his sly voice and cold tones had returned. Memories came flooding back to Hermione, and her chest felt tense again for a moment, but she found something was impeding her ability to return to her panicked and alarmed state. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry. Professors." Hermione blurted out, to shy to look the potion master in the eye again. "Do you feel okay Miss Granger?" Snape asked. Hermione nodded. "Actually, I feel a little light headed." Snape nodded solemnly, and took the place in the armchair opposite.

He conjured some tea and soup and sandwiches that appeared on the small tables that were to their right. "I have found that tomato soup and a cheese sandwich destroy that feeling quite well. Eat." Hermione nodded, and took a sip of her tea, finding it was exactly to how she drank it. "How do you know?" Hermione asked, and the look Snape shot at her made her stomach feel queasy, and she regretted asking. After five or so minutes of silence, Snape replied. "Are you naïve enough to think that this scar" He mentioned to the scar on his neck "Is the only scar I received through the war, Miss Granger?" He inhaled sharply. "Do you think that I, the snarky dungeons git, would be cold enough to shut out the memories of the war?" He became angry, and rose from his chair, to walk away from her, and he kept his back turned. "If that's really what you think of me, Miss Granger, then get out of my study now."

"I didn't mean it like that professor." Hermione's voice seemed to be a whisper against the room that suddenly felt so cold. She averted her eyes to pay attention to the forest green rug that lay on the stone beneath them. "I just, You, This happens to you too?" Snape chuckled darkly, before returning to his seat. "Miss Granger, lost for words. Someone should call Rita Skeeter." He took a bite from his sandwich. "Yes, this happens to me too." "The nightmares?" Snape shifted uncomfortably, "Yes." "Do you ever cry?" Snape looked offended. "No Miss Granger. I do not *cry*. If you plan on turning on the water works, please bore someone else with your dulcet screeching." "I can't cry either." Snape looked at her, unsure of what to make of the Gryffindor sitting in his study.

Now that she had stopped panicking, and her face wasn't blotchy, Snape realised she had a rather beautiful complexion. Her skin wasn't as pale as his, neither was it as tanned as some of the witches he saw today. He thought it was uniquely her. She had filled out her jumper quite well, and Snape quickly averted his eyes from that area. He looked back up to her eyes, to find that she was looking him directly in the eye.

"Why did you help me, Sir?" Snape rolled his eyes. "I would be a rather shabby teacher if I saw one of my students having a panic attack and did nothing to help them. Even if they were a member of the infamous golden trio." Snape sneered as he said this. "I told you." He said, malice suddenly gone again. "I get them too, and it was unfair to leave you alone, knowing I could have helped." Hermione gulped. "What was that potion,?" She asked. "Miss Granger, I am a potions teacher. Do you think it beyond me to be presented with an ailment and not be able to suggest something to help? It happens, that it is a potion of my own creation. A fact you will do well to keep to yourself. " Hermione nodded again. "What helps you, Professor, on the bad days?" Hermione asked, concern audible in her voice. At this, Snape turned.

Snape grew angry quickly, and Hermione wished she hadn't asked. "Miss Granger. Not only are you not supposed to be here, but I help you, give you a potion from my personal stores, and stop your panic attack. Then, when you're in my study, you ask incredibly personal questions!" He closed the space between them quickly, placing his hands on the arms of her chair. "It seems you still don't know when to shut your mouth!" He glared at her, his eyes flickered to her lips. He was close to her now, so close in fact the tendrils of his hair fell short only by a few centimetres of her face. "Don't ask me about my problems girl!" At this the otherwise timid Hermione bit back. "Why not?" At this, Snape seemed to be taken aback. "Why? Because I don't want some immature little girl, learning my secrets and then blabbing them to the whole school in exchange for popularity!" At this, Hermione rose from her chair slightly and their faces were so close, Hermione could smell the coffee on his breath. This boldness didn't go unnoticed, but instead of instinctively moving away Snape moved closer, and Hermione's eyes flickered to his lips. One glance at his eyes confirmed he was looking at hers. For a brief moment, Hermione sensed attraction, she believed so did Snape. There mouths were so close, with a slightest move of her head, she could...but then logic prevailed and she remembered exactly who she was talking to. "That's rubbish Professor. For one, I am not immature enough to blab about private conversations had with anyone, especially a teacher! Two, amazingly I'm not too pig-headed to think that you didn't suffer a lot during the war! You put your life on the line for us! You're a good man." Hermione said, the last part lacking in anger. "Good Man? You know nothing. Get out. I don't want you here." Snape said, voice ice cold and unforgiving.

Hermione's eyes filled up with hurt, and Snape moved to allow her to rise from the chair. "I am fully aware I am unwanted." She said. The previous moment f safety and desire seemed so far away. She rose from the chair, and wordlessly exited the room. Snape was turned away from her the entire time, and when she left, he turned, and flung her cup into the unlit hearth. He cursed under his breath. "They're all fucking bad days." He said, before turning and walking out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Honestly, this isn't the best chapter I've ever written. It's a bit foggy, and I might re-draft it tomorrow, when I feel better. Reviews are always appreciated! Thankyou for reading! I know it's a strange place to leave it, but it will even out in the next couple of chapters.  
*No characters are mine, all belong to J.K.* **

"Professor Snape. Snape, SEVERUS" McGonagall's Scottish brogue echoed down the halls of Hogwarts, and Snape had been attempting to ignore her, continuing to walk away. But at the use of his given name, several students turned, and he didn't want those dunderheads to pay any more attention to him than needed.

It had been a week and three days since his conversation with Miss Granger had turned sour, and regrettably, his thoughts continued to turn to it. He noticed a change in the girl too, she seemed strange, her thoughts dampened, and he had twice caught her pushing her food around on her plate, not eating a single bite. Last night, she was absent from dinner all together. Snape didn't know why, but that brought about a change in him, and he left his dinner, no longer desiring the cottage pie that was still steaming on his plate. He turned about suddenly. "Minerva. To what do I owe the most delicate pleasure?" Sarcasm was laced in Snapes voice, and McGonagall shot him a look that would have bewitched first years into jelly.

"Have you seen Hermione...ooh Miss Granger?" McGonagall spoke, voice turning into quite obvious concern. "No, I haven't. When did I become Potter?" He spat, glaring at her. The name of Hermione awoke a feeling of guilt within him, and he felt uneasy again. "Oh, don't be like that Severus. I haven't seen her all day!" Snape rolled his eyes. "It's only twelve, woman."

McGonagall shot a steel gaze at him. Her lips pursed, and her eyes suddenly seemed to burn into him. He knew how much she detested the term woman, and as a result used it as frequently as he could. "Have you, used common sense and looked in her dormitory?" "Oh don't be stupid Snape, I looked there, and in the library, and in the hall. I asked all of the ghosts, well not the bloody baron of course but he doesn't count. None of them has seen her. Binns and Flitwick haven't seen her, neither have Grubbly-Plank or Hooch. Merlins beard, I would have asked Trelawney to look in her inner eye if I thought it would have helped."

Snape sneered, and rolled his eyes, recalling the blithering Divination Professor. "No, I haven't seen Miss Granger." McGonagall looked flustered. "Well. You need to go find her." "What?" Snape bellowed, attracting the attention of a couple of straggling students that were late for there classes. "Thompson, Bellows. Detention." Snape spat again, and the students ran rather fast down the corridor and away from their teachers.

It had been ten minutes, and Snape didn't know where to look. McGonagall had finally gotten him to look for the Granger girl by pulling rank on him, telling him that she would do it herself, but she had work to do and a couple of classes to teach. He begrudgingly accepted, aware that she could organise it so he had classes on Mondays. Unfortunately, it was a Monday, and Snape couldn't use the teaching excuse.

Most classes practically taught themselves anyway these days. They had gathered quite quickly, apart from the first years, that Snape wasn't to be messed with, especially after his true loyalties were revealed after the war. Snape shook his thoughts off, and remembered Minerva didn't mention looking in Hogsmeade. If he was to track down this annoying girl, he decided to look there first. He walked himself to the Hogwarts gates. He inwardly shuddered, remembering all the nights he did this ver same thing, vanishing off to Death Eater meetings, only to come back hours later to give Dumbledore titbits of information, that normally would prove useless in the long run, to then go back to his room and patch himself up, pain dominating him to the very core. His lips tightened at these memories, and he mentally blocked them out, focusing at the task on hand.

He looked in a few shops, and ventured through the window of Honeydukes. He looked into Tomes and Scrolls, thinking the wizard there, Pete, may have seen her. Pete and Snape were on rather friendly terms, as he was a frequent visitor, finding it easier than making longer trips to Flourish and Blotts. He dropped momentarily into the Three Broomsticks, and frowned at the sight of Madam Rosemerta, even though the Wizard was aging, she still found applicable, to dress in wizards robes designed for a much younger witch. He hastily left again, before he could be spotted.

He then decided to go into the Hogs Head, greeting Aberforth as usual. Aberforth went to pour Snapes usual drink of Firewhiskey, but Snapes outstretched arm and flat palm stopped him. "Hermione Granger. Have you seen her?" Snape asked, not finding time for usual greetings. Aberforth feigned naivety, unknowing, but Snape knew better. He was accustomed to Aberforth, finding the Hogs head, although shabbier than the three broomsticks, afforded him privacy, that he was not given at the three broomsticks. Everyone seemed to paint him out as a 'true hero' and decided that halfway through his fire whiskey would be the best time to enter into a half assed conversation with him. Besides, Aberforth had looked and sounded more like Albus as the days progressed, and Snape couldn't help the nostalgia that crept up on him. A few times, Snape had actually mistook Aberforth for Albus, and when he realised his mistake, he had to go and stare into the fire for a few minutes. "When?" Snape asked, his voice sounding tired.

"Last night, around midnight." Aberforth said, and Snapes brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?" Snape asked, his voice cold and monotone. "I don't know." Snape growled, not having time for Aberforth's meddling. "WHY?" Snape shouted this time, leaning forward towards Aberforth over the counter. "She wanted some Firewhiskey." "She sat and drank?" "No, she took a bottle of Firewhiskey. Bought it off me. Knew I'd keep quiet about it. She went back up to her rooms, well she said she would anyway." Snape nodded, non-verbally thanking Aberforth for the information. He didn't need Aberforth to know why Hermione had asked for Firewhiskey, he knew well enough. He'd used it himself. There was no potion that cured the dull ache that resided in him, and know, he thought, her. He'd walked not a long distance, out of Honeydukes, towards the apparition point when he started replaying the last conversation in his head.

He'd been so stupid, he'd acted on instinct, helping her, something deep within him. He actually wanted to help her, she was a lovely girl, no woman now, and he knew she deserved more than being told she was unwanted. It was ridiculous, because the truth was the exact opposite. She didn't know the exact horrors he'd committed, so naturally her face was sincere and honest when she asked him what helped him. She seemed concerned about him, an honour he didn't deserve. He apparated, and was back in the Hogwarts grounds in minutes. He resolved to apologise to her, deciding that although he indeed, was a worthless bastard, and he couldn't do anything to change that, he could at least help a girl that honestly didn't deserve what she seemed to be going thorough. "Shit." He cursed, under his breath. He'd have to find her first.

Another quick survey of the castle told him that she wasn't there, though he asked the bloody baron to keep an eye out for her. He decided to walk around the grounds, using logic, thinking that maybe she'd been walking around all this time and they were just cursed or unlucky. He'd almost lost hope, and was resigning to tell McGonagall that he wouldn't be Grangers keeper anymore, he saw something underneath the tree by the lake. At first, he saw just a figure, and he wasn't sure it was her. Squinting however, in the now diminishing light, it had taken him a while to search the castle, Snape just about made out her chestnut curls. It occurred to him that he should find McGonagall, but he would rather apologise to her in private. He imagined talking to the professor, explaining exactly why he carried a hysterical Hermione down the halls, and into his private chambers.

He started to walk towards her, it wasn't the shortest of walks he could have possibly undertaken. But none the less, his speed increased when it seemed that Hermione was swaying from side to side, and standing precariously close to the edge. He remembered once, in muggle London, during the war he'd been walking and seen a man standing on top of a big building, a bank maybe. He was swaying from side to side, and he appeared to have imbibed a large amount of muggle liquor. Snape attempted to walk past him, but a large amount of muggles had noticed and he found his pathway blocked. He considered apparating, but a vanishing man would have caught more attention than a man standing precariously close to the edge. The man had people staring at him, and eventually some police became involved. However, they were clearly too late, and the man jumped fifteen minutes later. Snape noticed a man running to him, with sandy brown hair, yelling a name, something that began with "S.." He couldn't remember much more. Pushing this memory to the back of his mind, Snape quickened his pace, silently cursing apparition not being available.

He'd just walked down the path and was close to Hermione when she started wavering precariously close to the edge. He wanted to call out her name, but he was scared that if he startled her, she'd fall anyway. Instead, he conjured some of that stealth that he cultivated as years as a double agent, creeping up on Hermione Granger. Finally, he reached the tree. "Miss Granger," He said, voice soft, and apprehensive, slightly unsure of what he may uncover. She was facing the lake, and didn't turn to him. "Heermioneee," She spoke. It was clear from that single word that she was still drunk, and rather emotional too. "Hermione, go back to the castle." Snape tried to keep his voice void from any emotion, knowing that in times of true low, caring stung more than it should. He wasn't a man to talk a woman off a ledge, and he hoped that isn't what this situation was going to become. "I'm not going to jump, if that's what you're concerned about. Don't worry, I wouldn't bother you with the paperwork. The lake is calming. That's all." Snape neglected to point out that his reputation was always in tatters, and didn't want to shock her with an all out apology. "Regardless of your intentions, Miss Granger. It's getting late, and you have been missing all day. I suggest you return to the great hall immediately, and explain to Professor McGonagall where you have been."

At this, Hermione didn't reply, instead she sat on the edge. There was about a twenty foot drop between Hermione and the Lake, and Snape really didn't fancy his chances of swimming, especially in this cooling evening. He noted she was wearing her Hogwarts school robe, but seemed to be wearing muggle clothes underneath. He rolled his eyes. He walked forward, the ground felt hard beneath him. He sat beside Hermione, and several minutes passed without either of the pair saying a word. "I'll give you a sobering draught if you just go back inside." He decided to venture. She ignored his offer totally. Her face was forward, like she didn't acknowledge his presence at all. "You told me I was unwanted." She stated. This didn't seem to be a question, it was said without meaning, her voice hollow. It was a simple admission of fact. "You are not unwanted, Miss Granger." "Hermione." She corrected. "You're not unwanted.." Snape drifted, he'd only once referred to a student by their first name, and that was Draco, when he was trying to protect him. "Hermione." He finally finished. Calling her by her first name seemed to be regarding her as an independent person, though he was aware it was inappropriate, it seemed the first way of making amends.

He noticed the bottle of Fire Whiskey was beside her, and subtly vanished it. The bottle was empty. When he did this, Hermione seemed to change, acknowledging his presence, she turned to him. Her face was pale, and her nose and eyes had become red, Snape thought a mixture of the cold and the alcohol. She'd tucked her robes around her, and they encompassed most of her body. "You don't mean that." She said.

Snape looked her directly in the eyes, and his eyes seemed to burn into her again. "You are wanted, Hermione Granger." After a few moments of searching her eyes, she seemed to take in this, and accept it. He looked away. He knew he was fast dropping the surly potions master image he'd spent so many years attempting to cultivate, but honestly, something inside of him didn't care. He understood Hermione, knew what it felt like to feel like this. Even aside from that, she was academically superior to her peers, and could engage in full conversation with even the most intelligent of wizards. "I'll come back," She said. Her voice was groggy, and her movements seemed to be delayed, it occurred to him that she might not even remember the conversation in the morning.

He stood up, and extended his hand to Hermione, happy to have finally convinced her to turn to reason. "Before you go to eat, you may have a couple of potions to rid you of the evidence of your drinking. I suggest you don't do it again. It doesn't help in the long run." Snape's voice lacked it's usual encompassing sneer and harsh tones, but it didn't speak volumes of warmth either.

Hermione shook her head while she was getting back up, a little too vigorously, and before he really knew what was happening, she tripped, maybe on her cloak he didn't know, and fell of the edge of the grass. Snapes reflexes jumped into action, and before he knew it he had jutted forward and grabbed Hermione's wrist. Her breathing was laboured, and her eyes spoke of fear. Snape had an iron grip around her wrist, and rather forcefully pulled her back up, causing her to yell out in pain. "Are you okay?" He asked. She nodded vigorously, all traces of pain or the Fire Whiskey had dissipated. "Good." He said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay witches and wizards, I'm so so sorry for leaving this so long, I've just been so busy...doing nothing! Just kidding, I've been breaking things and writing things and I have a few little fanfic ideas that hopefully I'll get round too in the fall. Sadly, I fly away on the 17th for two weeks, but I hope to get at least two more chapters done before then. Thankyou for reading and hopefully reviewing! **

Snape stood and ushered Hermione to follow. She quickly jumped to her feet, and brushed herself down. She yelped out in pain when she used her left wrist, It was the wrist that Snape had dragged her from the edge of the grass. Wordlessly, Snape took her fingers in his hand and gently pushed back the cloak covering her. Her wrist was inflamed, reddened, and several blueish marks had began showing, giving the appearance of fingermarks. Snape inhaled sharply as Hermione winced in pain.

Snape withdrew his wand from his pocket and quietly cast a spell on Hermiones wrist. A lilac mist appeared around Hermiones wrist before turning a white colour, and Snape tsked at the news. Hermione deducted that it must have been some sort of diagnosing spell, but she had never seen or heard of anything turning lilac or white. To be completely honest she was more detracted by the insane throbbing of the sharp pain that now resided within her wrist. "Wha?" She offered up, but the growing pain in her wrist took priority and she stifled yet another sob. Honestly, she didn't want to appear too hurt, and inwardly cursed the professor for his now interfering nature.

"It seems Miss Granger, you have managed to break your wrist. It will be best to take you back to my study" Snape sighed audibly, "And fix you up from there." Hermione looked quite disgruntled at this news. She didn't move from her spot. "Granger. Simply, I don't want to fix your dammed wrist with my wand, right here in the open. Come back to my study. It will be easier. You're the one that broke the blasted thing, falling off the grass edge ever so elegantly.I don't like the idea of being in your company any more than you do in mine." Snape knew he was lying, but Hermione obviously didn't seem elated at the idea of spending more with me with the venomous Potions Master. Hermione bit back, her sarcasam surprising and matching Snape. "Well Professor, I could just go to the Hospital Wing and explain what happened? Unless you want to do Madame Pomfrey the honour of explaining why you had to pull my up from grass in the first place, with such force?" Hermione once again held out her wrist and Snape noted the now deep purple finger marks marring her wrist. It seemed Snape retained the strength he was once forced to gain. In all honesty, Hermione liked the idea of spending more time with Snape. After his admission of her being wanted, not by him obviously, but still wanted, she seemed less afraid. She wasn't really afraid of him anymore, but that dark light that seemed to permanently exist within her chest eased off a little. "No. Miss Granger. That won't be necessary." She smiled wryly at him. She showed she could use the situation to her advantage, something that Snape admired.

The walk back to the castle was a tedious one, long and filled will awkward silence and pregnant pauses. Hermione seemed intent, to Snape, on asking the most intrusive questions. He understood her motives for asking the questions, but really wished she wouldn't. The concern, although it wasn't entirely unwelcome, was completely unnecessary. Snape couldn't understand, in all his Slytherin greatness why Hermione Granger seemed quite so concerned with him. He possessed no admirable qualities. Sure he was intelligent, regrettably so, to the point where his schoolmates used to belittle him. He was blatantly unattractive. His face was overshadowed by his crooked large nose, broken time and time again, and his eyes were deep, and sallow. His teeth were mashed together unevenly. He recalled being punched by his father, around the age of seven or eight, when his second set of teeth were coming in. He quickly shuddered, remembering the fear that ran through him. His hair possessed the charisma of the dead, taking the appearance of a black willow tree. He was ashamed of his body most of all, it was heavily marred by both his child and adult hood. The Dark Lord, although he took Severus back when he returned, always had a particular fondness for torturing his followers. Bellatrix, her bloodlust outstanding, horrifying Snape on more than one occasion seemed to be the only one that appreciated the curses, hexes and jinks that were continuously thrown their way.

In honesty, he was ashamed of himself. He knew Hermione wouldn't be one to focus on appearance, but his personality, his mind were far too dark and bitter for her. He was sure of it. She didn't need someone like him, because, well, no one needed him. He was only drawn from his thoughts when Hermione coughed loudly indicating he'd missed another intrusive question of hers. "Furballs returned, Miss Granger?" He said, laced with dry sarcasm. She threw Snape a rather embarrassed look, both of their emotions seemed to be frazzled. "I asked, how you came up with the anti-panic potion you gave me, Sir." She seemed defeated, the earlier wit and determination seemed far away.

"Well Miss Granger, as I'm sure you can deduce, I have panic attacks. The potion Madame Pomfrey gave me, although useful, came with several side effects. Upon further research, I found ways to minimize the effects, as well as increasing the length the potion banishes fear for." Hermione nodded.

Thankfully, the walk was soon over and in little time Hermione found herself yet again in the potion Masters study. Once more, she was sat in his armchair and uncomfortable in the overbearing room. He again, ignored her presence all together and walked straight through a door, to a room which contained what she only thought must contain a large array of potion ingredients. He came out, once again, holding potions. Hermione had been biting down on her lip, her wrist hurt, but after the pain she had endured over the past summer, it was minimal. She pulled her wrist back up, as Snape pushed the potions on to the table resting by the armchair she inhabited. "Drink." He spat at her, and sat in the place opposite. Hermione gulped down three potions, they all tasted disgusting.

Thankfully, the purple marks quickly vanished from her wrist, as did the other markings caused by Snapes yank. Her breathing evened out as the pain left her. Her features relaxed, and it occurred to Snape that once more Hermione was really rather pretty relaxed. This thought caused him to turn his head from her. "If that's all, Miss Granger, you may leave." Hermione seemed to look through him, and for a moment forgot exactly where she was sitting. Suddenly, as if only hearing his words, moments after he actually spoke them, she rose, rather ghost like from his chair, and went to walk out the door.

Sensing he would regret what he was about to say, he waiting until Hermione had just crossed the threshold before calling out "Miss Granger" into the air. She didn't respond, but she didn't need to, for her heard her footsteps stop and the sound of turning. "It would, perhaps, be prudent if I taught you to brew the anti-panic potion, so you can stop bothering me?" His words, perhaps to the untrained ear would have sounded callus and unwelcome, but she knew, after what he said to her, that he cared. "Yes Sir." "Sunday then." "Sunday." she echoed.

Hermione walked down the hall feeling the dark light among her chest diminish slightly more. It seemed this year wouldn't be a total waste of time.


End file.
